


I know what a sneeze is

by annemariek



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Dean, Grumpy Castiel, M/M, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Sick Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:55:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3568691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemariek/pseuds/annemariek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas starts to get sick and refuses help. Then he gets REALLY sick and grumpy and wants soup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know what a sneeze is

“Achoo! – What the hell?”

Dean looks up from the file he was perusing and smirks at his newly human best friend. “What, don’t you know what a sneeze is?”

Cas fixes him with that petulant glare he puts on whenever Dean teases him. “Of _course_ I know what a sneeze is, I am not a child.”

Dean huffs a small laugh and shakes his head a little, returning to what he was reading. He can tell that Cas was pouting, but he doesn’t care. At least not until five minutes later, when the other man sneezes again, then sniffles a little.

“You ok there, buddy?”

“I’m fine, but my nose is very uncomfortable right now. It’s hard to breathe and I feel like I’m leaking.”

“How could you possibly have a cold? We keep the bunker nice and warm all the time? What did you do, go outside with a wet head and make snow angels?”

Cas shifts uncomfortably. _Wait, did he really?_

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” Cas retorts, “I did not go outside with a wet head and make snow angels.” Dean raises his eyebrows expectantly and waits for him to continue. He knows better than to ask. After a few moments of silence Cas sighs, “I did take a walk in the snow yesterday though.”

“Yeah, I thought so. I’ll make you some soup.” It’s been a while since Dean has had a reason to make John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat it anyway.”

“I don’t want soup.”

“Fine,” Dean stops in the doorway and returns to his seat, “But give it 24 hours, I guarantee you’ll change your mind.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cas responds disdainfully, “I’m several millennia old, I have fought wars in Heaven, helped stop the apocalypse, and I dragged both you and your brother’s sorry asses out of Hell. I can handle a _cold_.”

_Yeah, sure…_

**_~*~ 24 Hours Later ~*~_ **

Cas shifts under the covers on his bed, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the sheets below him by scooting back and forth a bit. It isn’t working. Normally it wouldn’t bother him, but today he was hyper-aware of every physical sensation. He had finally managed to get enough blankets on top of him to subdue the aching cold, when he realized that he was very, very hungry. Did he eat this morning? No, he slept through breakfast and then was too nauseated to eat anything when he did wake up. That soup was starting to sound extremely inviting.

Getting the soup, however was another challenge entirely. He should just get up, go find Dean, and ask him to make it, but the thought of getting out from underneath the covers is abhorrent to him. It is cold outside the covers and even the slightest breath of air makes him shiver. Shivering is unpleasant. As an angel he was able to exert absolute control over his vessel and he did not like that he could not stop his human body from trembling. After spending what seemed like hours assessing the situation he decides there are really only three options.

One, he could shout _very_ loudly and hope someone heard him. This would likely irritate his scratchy throat and had a small likelihood of working because the walls in the bunker are quite thick.

Two, he could wait until someone comes looking for him. Upon contemplating this option, Cas’ stomach rumbles loudly. He might die of starvation before that happened, Dean and Sam can be very focused and who knows how long it would take them to realize he was MIA.

Three, he could attempt to cross his bedroom to get the phone sitting on his dresser so he can call Dean. This is the least pleasant option, but has the highest chance for success.

_This is humiliating_. Just yesterday Cas was bragging about his fortitude to Dean, and now he won’t even cross a room. A mere four years ago he managed to cut the ring from Plague himself while receiving the full effects of his power. And Cas hadn’t even been at full strength. At the time, he couldn’t even fly. And now he is unwilling even to get out of bed and walk a measly 6 feet. Screw options 1-3, he’s going to find Dean.

“I am an angel of the Lord.” Cas says aloud to himself as he grits his jaw and throws the covers off of himself.

“I am a soldier.” The words come out shaky as he stars to shiver, the warmth of the bed leaving him rapidly. He forces himself to stand anyway.

“I am a celestial being.” Cas makes it to the door before he starts shivering in earnest. His hand shakes slightly as he opens the doorknob but he ignores it. As he starts down the hall his head starts to swim, but he will not allow himself to be defeated by these petty human concerns.

By the time he makes it to the kitchen, he is drenched in sweat and can barely stand upright.

“Cas?” Dean appeared in the hall behind him, “Are you ok?”

_Well, there goes my dignity._ “Can I have some soup now?”


End file.
